The memory of the foreigner's gauntlet lingered in his veins, a weight he could not shed. Instead of pushing it away, Tian Shen drew it inward, forcing himself to confront the oppressive force.
Every heartbeat, he crushed that memory against his own qi until sparks flew inside his dantian. Silver flames rose from his skin, wild and unstable, licking the chamber walls.
Outside, Feng Yin stood guard, her hand never leaving her sword. She could feel his aura through the sealed doors—it battered against her chest like waves against a cliff. Elder Su watched beside her, calm but intent.
"He pushes too hard," Feng Yin murmured.
"No," Elder Su said softly, eyes gleaming. "He pushes just enough. Only violence can birth a Core that will stand against what is coming."
Within the chamber, Tian Shen's eyes snapped open—silver fire blazing.
